Last night was fun. I'm lying.
I had a long day, and Carter was being really bitchy. Really inconsiderate. I just wanted to watch Skins on the internet (don't make fun of me, I think it's an awesome show) and he kept closing the laptop on me! I figured he wanted some attention so I tried playing with him. But every time I picked up one of his toys he took it from me, put it down and got another toy. He didn't want to play with me. In the end I figured out that he literally just wanted to irritate me. When I started preparing his favourite lunch (taters and fried boloney with ketchup!) he just cried and cried and cried. When he got his lunch he fed it all to the dogs and kept crying. I had to clean the entire house, of course. [Side note: mom and dad, the next time you decide to jet-set off to where-ever your hearts desire, put your son up in a hotel for the duration or find another house-sitter because I AM DONE WITH THIS SHIT!]
I was having a rough day. I painted something that turned out terribly. My nose started running and still hasn't stopped. These things tend to add up for me really quickly. Once one rotten thing happens, the entire day tends to follow suit. At any rate, when Mike came home I was a demonic psycho war machine. I just lay on the couch with tissues stuck up my nose and cried and cried and cried. I really just wanted to watch What The Bleep Do We Know, which Rob lent me like 2 years ago, but it's buried somewhere in a box in the basement (which is why you haven't gotten it back yet, I'm so sorry Robby..) so anyway, my feel-good film was unavailable to me at the time so I did the next best thing.
I lit some candles, lay in bed and listen to Leonard Cohen really really loud. (It used to be Elliott Smith but I've grown up quite a bit since then, even in my melancholy). After an hour or so, and maybe some Diazepam, I'm usually fine again. And this was the case yesterday. I rolled out of bed after my fit and demanded the remote control. Ate some tostitos. Whatever.
But is that any way to live your life? Just falling spectacularly to shreds every so often and then when it passes, carrying on as such until it happens again? And again?
This is all a very real symptom of some bigger problem, and I am aware of that. But I am stuck. I got with Mike, I got knocked up, and I am stuck here in this life that I made for myself, even when it sometimes makes me really frustrated and a little bit sad. Don't get me wrong - I can't imagine my life any other way. But there is something missing. And I can't just pick up and go find whatever the missing piece is, because my heart is here with Mike and Carter, and everyone knows your body doesn't go really far without your heart. So.
The point is: I never fully realized who I was before I got pregnant and settled down. No matter how you dice it, that's something that you are eventually going to regret, no matter how in love you are with your family.
Well, nevermind. We are ugly, but we have the music. - Leonard Cohen
Listen to some Cohen. Listen to his LYRICS. He is, after all, first and foremost a poet.